Phantom Pain
by allhailthehutch
Summary: Peeta was always very good at hiding his pain


The first time he feels the pain is on the train ride home from the Capitol. A dull ache in a leg that's no longer there. Peeta wakes with a gasp, his sweat-soaked shirt sticking to his body. _The nightmares_. He can see the faces of the slain bodies, their lifeless eyes no longer shining with optimistism.

Peeta rubs the stump where his leg used to be, wincing at the tingling, cramping sensation that only seems to happen after a terrible nightmare.

They mentioned in passing, while fitting him for a new leg, that oftentimes the brain still sends signals, making one believe that the leg is still there. Peeta throws off his blanket angrily. He's lost his leg. Isn't that enough of a punishment?

He doesn't need a physical pain to remind of what he's lost. Hopefully, when he returns back home, the pain in both his heart and missing leg will finally fade away.

The next time he feels the pain is during the weekly family dinner at his new home in Victor's Village. Peeta clenches his fist around his fork, doing his best to ride out the wave of pain coursing through his lower half.

"What's wrong with you, boy?" his mother sneers before shoving a piece of fresh bread in her mouth. "You're all pale."

Peeta lets out a shaky breath before answering. "It's nothing," he reassures her. "I just get this pain–nevermind, it's not important."

"Well, you best remember your table manners then," she reminds him harshly. "You aren't some Seam trash. I won't have my half-witted son embarrassing me."

Peeta's father and two brothers say nothing during the exchange. They ignore the obvious tension. It's something that's been happening for as long as Peeta can remember.

He thinks back to their faces when his name was called. They'd already prepared themselves for his death before he even got on the train. Peeta hates admitting that he thought the exact same thing.

Death wasn't in his destiny. Peeta was chosen to live, maybe as half a man, but he still made it home alive.

He can't help but wonder what type of life he's going to have now.

Peeta's still not familiar with his prosthetic leg. The cranking sound it makes whenever he walks is a constant reminder that he lost his leg.

_Clank. Clank. Clank._

He's still limping, but learning to maneuver is becoming easier. Peeta usually leaves the leg off at home. He doesn't like how the cold metal pinches his skin.

The brisk winter air only intensities the pain he's beginning to feel more frequently. He's been in bed all day, sketching pictures of _her._ They've barely spoken since they got home. Peeta hopes she's sleeping better than he is.

The shooting pain causes Peeta to bite so hard on his bottom lip that he draws blood.

"There's no leg there," he whispers, trying to stop the pain. "I can't feel pain in a leg that doesn't exist anymore."

Peeta repeats the mantra over and over again until the pain eventually subsides.

It's a temporary fix, and Peeta knows it. Still, anything is better than constantly being in pain.

He jolts awake when the sensation hits him suddenly. Katniss stirs next to him, waking from her much needed sleep. The Victory Tour is nearing an end, and Peeta's been so busy that the pain has been easy to ignore, but tonight it's stronger than ever. All the stress and exhaustion has finally showed itself in the worst way possible.

"Peeta, what's wrong?" The worry in her voice is enough to shatter his heart into a million pieces.

He shakes his head, brushing a stray piece of hair out of her face. "It's nothing," he says with a tired smile. "I'm sorry that I woke you up."

"Did you have a nightmare?" she asks, worry etched all over her face.

Peeta laughs softly to himself. "It wasn't a nightmare."

"Fine, don't tell me." She turns around, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm going back to sleep then."

He lets out a frustrated sigh. "If I tell you, promise you won't think I'm nuts?"

That catches her attention. Katniss sits up, staring at him intently. "I'm listening."

"Sometimes–well sometimes I get pain in the leg that's no longer there," he says, gesturing to his stump. "I can't explain it, but the pain feels so real, and it hurts. Usually, I just massage it until it turns into a dull ache."

Katniss knits her eyebrows close together, chewing on her bottom lip in deep thought. "No one has suggested any medicine for you?"

"You're the only person I've told about it," he says lamely.

"If you want, I can talk to my mother and see if there's anything she can give you," she says, resting her hand on his thigh. "You shouldn't have to be in pain, Peeta."

Peeta can't imagine a moment where he could love Katniss more. Her genuine concern is a quality never given to him by his family. "Thank you. I would really appreciate it."

She says nothing else but runs her hands down his thigh, stopping at the bare flesh where his leg used to be. Tentatively, she begins to massage the area, much like what Peeta does himself. "You don't have to do this," he tells her.

"I want to," she says with a shrug. "You don't have to be in pain. I won't allow it."

And from that moment on, she never does.


End file.
